


Celeste

by SparkWildflyre



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Basically after the events of Amegedidn't-happen, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, In this they are asexual, Incredibly Self-Indulgent, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffible partners if you will, Lots of it, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, No Smut, Other, Post-Apocalypse, Quality Time, Queer Friendly, Slice of Life, Sort Of, There are mentions of sex though, They've just kind of accepted each other as partners, so so so much fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 18:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20086693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkWildflyre/pseuds/SparkWildflyre
Summary: They have all the time in the world to experience literally anything they could ever want.  Naturally, they've chosen to spend that time together.  Three-shot of pure self-indulgence.





	Celeste

**Author's Note:**

> Things of note:
> 
> -The linked footnotes don't work yet, I'll fix them eventually  
-Nearly finished reading the novel so some things might not be accurate to that  
-I'm from the US and know very little about Europe, including England, and I apologize now if I haven't nailed the terminology or if it ever seems too forced, I did my best  
-Scenery and some plot is based off of some of my own memories--times or places when I felt happiest. That was the inspiration for this. I wanted to write something that made me happy by combining Good Omens with personal real life happy memories

_Nimbostratus_

For the last three weeks, Aziraphale had been pestering Crowley about allowing him to drive the Bentley.

Now, if there was one thing that garnered even near to as much affection from Crowley as Aziraphale already did, the Bentley was a close second. Furthermore, Crowley wasn't even sure Aziraphale _could_ drive. I mean, the bloke was still wearing the same clothes he'd worn for over a century. Sure, he'd half-driven-half-flown Madame Tracy's scooter that one time when the end of the world had been minutes away from coming to fruition, but who could really say if that had actually been the angel behind the wheel‒er, handlebars? _No way _in either Heaven nor Hell would Crowley allow Aziraphale to drive his precious Bentley. The angel could be as persistent as he wanted, but no amount of winsome pleading or fluttering his admittedly adorable (and very persuasive) eye lashes would make Crowley change his mind.

"Pleeeaaase Crowley," Aziraphale lingered on the word, not bothering to even try to veil his frustration as he examined the demon with his signature enamoring gaze.

"We've been over this dozens of times now. The answer is still absolutely, unequivocally 'no'!" the demon hissed back, attempting to inject his voice with a ferocity that was completely and hopelessly absent from his body language. He sat slouched lazily against a table heavy with stacks of books, one long, slender leg draped provocatively over the other.

"What even is it you want the Bentley for anyways? You haven't even told me!" Crowley pointed out. He was genuinely curious what the angel was playing at being as pouty and stubborn as he was. Granted, it went without saying that Crowley spoiled Aziraphale rotten at every opportunity. On nearly every other occasion, when Aziraphale wanted something, he had only to cast _that look_ of dainty charm upon his demonic other half and Crowley would oblige him. What else was the poor demon going to do? Of course, they could afford to do whatever they very well pleased now that the threat of Armageddon had dissipated. And what Crowley pleased more than anything else was to ensure that the angel was pleased; and so everyone was generally contented. _Maybe I’ve spoilt him a bit _too _much_, Crowley thought to himself.

Aziraphale had taken a few steps closer now, standing in front of Crowley with exasperation obvious in his features as he blustered his way through a response, "Well...I-I um...well, you see it's just that, well, you must get tired of driving me around all the time, don't you? Why not consider letting me give you a lift every now and again? I promise to treat the car with the utmost care and respect, and I would drive ever so cautiously."

The way the angel had spoken was so ridiculously endearing and honest that Crowley almost caved to his request, only to remember that he was supposed to be the more “persuasive” one.

Crowley rolled his eyes, "Have you _ever _seen me drive the car _respectfully_? Honestly, Angel, at this point I don't think it could even handle 'caution'. I’m not going back on my answer. Give it up!"

Aziraphale was quite put out by this point and finally decided to concede, but not without mumbling something unintelligible intent on getting the last word.

"Wha's 'at? Speak up now," Crowley squawked in irritation.

The angel's face flushed bright red as he muttered a little bit louder, "If you must know, there is a, uhm, special place I'd like to take you. And, well, I rather wanted it to be a surprise is all."

It was Crowley's turn to blush, his lips forming a surprised, and rather flattered, 'oh'. He’d maybe played a bit too harshly, hadn’t he? Sometimes the jest was all in good fun, but Crowley found that occasionally he took things for jokes that had serious meaning to Aziraphale. He always regretted it afterwards, though this whole argument could have been avoided if Aziraphale had just told him he wanted to take him on a date to an ambiguous location.[1] Still, Crowley felt a small pang of regret that he’d snapped at the angel when he’d only been trying to offer him a nice (albeit poorly planned) surprise.

Naturally, Aziraphale was always quick to forgive him when this sort of thing happened, forgiveness being basically engraved into an angel’s genetic code (did angels have DNA?). Despite this, Crowley still tried his hardest to make amends; he never intended to hurt Aziraphale if he could at all help it.

Crowley leaned forward atop the table, sitting more appropriately now and uncrossing his gangly legs. Aziraphale was close enough to him that he could press his bony knees up against the angel's plush thighs, fighting the urge to swing his feet back and forth nervously. He didn’t want to accidentally kick the angel.

The demon sat there thoughtful for a moment before changing position again. He twirled his feet up, wrapping his calves around Aziraphale, heels digging into the back of the angel's own legs. He was gentle enough that Aziraphale’s knees didn’t buckle, but the message to scoot closer to his demonic partner was received. Then Crowley inclined himself forward to hug the still somewhat ruffled principality, resting his head against his stomach. Aziraphale was never not wonderfully warm and soothing to rest one's tired corporeal body against, and even though Crowley was aware that he had irritated his other half, holding the angel close made the tension ease almost immediately.

Crowley stroked Aziraphale's back through the angel's many layers of clothing, gently massaging the space in between where his wings were located (when he had them physically materialized).

"You're very thoughtful, Angel," Crowley mewled into Aziraphale's belly, noting how the angel had now completely relaxed into him, "And I do very much look forward to a special date with you, surprise location and all, though it better not be to any more of your old fashioned dance lessons. I swear to Someone if it i‒"

"It's not, dear. Promise," Crowley could feel Aziraphale smiling as the angel now had his face buried in the demon's soft, rust-colored locks.

"Well alright then. When do you want to go?"

"How about tomorrow?"

“Tomorrow” rolled around quickly enough, but to Aziraphale, it seemed to take a century. He’d been wanting to take Crowley out for a picnic at this special spot for decades since he’d first discovered it. The “special spot” wasn’t any more than a secluded park deep in the countryside, embraced by a meandering stream. There was a small children’s playground set atop a patch of wood chips, a couple of gazebos with concrete floors that were just slightly off-kilter, and a large circle of stone benches situated around a fire pit. It wasn’t really anything spectacular at a glance, but for Aziraphale, it was more the principle of the thing. It was special simply because he got to spend time with the one he cared for most.

The angel was quick to jump out from the confines of the Bentley[2], a woven basket in hand as he strolled hurriedly over to one of the gazebos. He was so excited for this date that he could hardly contain himself, and he tried not to let Crowley’s slow, lackadaisical saunter out of the vehicle detract from that enthusiasm.

Aziraphale had also performed a minor miracle to keep the park free of other visitors for the day so it could be just the two of them there. They could act like ninnies to their heart’s content if they so desired, and Crowley was quickly hatching a plan to do just that as he surveyed his surroundings. While Aziraphale began opening up his picnic basket and pulling all sorts of scrumptious goodies out for them to snack on, the inexorable demon was off eyeing up a large, red metal roundabout with obnoxiously painted yellow handrails. His face curled into a soft smile and then even more into a conniving grin.

“Hey, Angel! Come over here a second!” he hollered, testing the playground equipment with growing glee.

Aziraphale set down the bottle of wine he was holding to glance over at the demon who was looking far too eager for it to be a good thing. Crowley gave the roundabout a push and gestured for the angel to come attempt to clamber on as it spun. Aziraphale was nonplussed, but decided to humor the demon anyways, his expression of annoyance shifting gradually to amusement as he trotted over.

Crowley stopped the thing from spinning and gestured once more, grinning roguishly at Aziraphale as he did so, “Come on, I’ll give you a push.”

Rolling his eyes at this childishness, but all too enthusiastic to participate anyways, Aziraphale clambered up onto the somewhat unstable metal disk. Crowley “helped” him up with one hand planted firmly on his rear, which the angel smacked away once he’d managed to hoist himself onto the roundabout.

“We are in _public_, please do make an effort to behave yourself,” he growled, only half-serious.

Crowley swung his head around dramatically, pretending to check for observers before turning to look pointedly back at Aziraphale from behind his sunglasses.

The principality sighed, “Just because you can’t see anyone now doesn’t mean people can’t just walk by whenever.”

“I take it you’re not into exhibitionism then?” Crowley inquired impishly, only to receive another stern glare from the angel balanced none-too-gracefully on the roundabout in front of him, “Re-_lax_, I’ve made it so that we’re completely invisible to any blasted human that decides to walk by.[3]”

Somewhat placated, Aziraphale crept around the disc of the roundabout with some caution.

“Ooh, if I were to sit on this at all my trousers would get covered in dirt. Don’t spin it too fast, will you?”

Finally finding a suitable spot to hang onto, Aziraphale gave Crowley the go-ahead and the demon took off like a bat out of Hell.[4] The heels of his shoes skidded through the wood chips, making them skitter up in all directions as he pulled the child’s plaything in tight circles, just a bit too fast to be passably human. Once he figured he’d gotten the roundabout to an acceptable speed, he leapt up onto the large spinning disc from the side, lunging at Aziraphale and playfully trying to nudge the angel off balance, while also grinning and chuckling softly from exhilaration.

Fortunately for said angel, his grip on the handrails was as tense as if he’d just heard news the Apocalypse was happening all over again, and not even Crowley being a bit of a prick could loosen his white-knuckled hold on the bars keeping him upright.

Unfortunately for the both of them, they’d failed to recall that the corporeal forms they inhabited were prone to motion sickness. While Crowley could handle the swift revolutions of the playground toy, having grown accustomed to the constant lurchings and reelings of the crowds in Hell, Aziraphale on the other hand, was not used to such dissonance between his vision and his vestibular senses.

“I haven’t even eaten anything yet and I fear I’m going to be sick,” the poor angel croaked miserably as the roundabout completed another three full rotations.

“Don’t you dare vomit all over me, Angel,” Crowley hissed, feeling a mixture of irritated and concerned. He snapped his fingers and the roundabout stopped moving, causing the nauseous principality to nearly topple over from the abrupt change in speed. Luckily Crowley was there to catch him, offering him a shoulder to lean on, and making sure to also whisk away the angel’s motion sickness with one of his “little demonic miracles”.

“Oh thank you, dear boy,” Aziraphale gasped out breathlessly, “This really was a fun idea, but I’m afraid I’m not quite as spry as I once was.”

Crowley raised a cynical brow at the angel knowing very well that both of them were immortal, and therefore didn’t age, “...Right.”

“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale cried out, now upset and clutching at the demon’s sleeves pitifully, “I’m dreadfully sorry to have spoiled all the fun. That wasn’t my intent for this day at all.”

Now his turn to roll his eyes, Crowley leaned down and planted a gentle smooch on Aziraphale’s forehead which calmed the principality down immediately, “Shut it, everything’s fine. Let’s get us a bite to eat, eh? I’m feeling peckish now after all that.”

They walked back, hand-in-hand, to the gazebo where Aziraphale had previously been setting up their lunch date. The angel was quick to get back to decking out the crooked picnic table he’d chosen with all sorts of bowls and platters of delicacies. It was rather miraculous (literally) that he’d been able to fit everything inside just the one picnic basket. Crowley could do no more than just sit next to him, gazing endearingly at him while he worked.[5]

They ate a small, refreshing lunch as the air began to thicken with humidity, clouds graying out the color of the sky.

Once they’d finished up their meal, bellies full and bodies warm with a reasonable amount of wine, Aziraphale offered his hand to Crowley with a smile.

“Let’s walk down to the river, shall we? Maybe we can find...well, _stuff_; exciting stuff perhaps. You never really know what one might find at the edge of a river, and this isn’t any St. James Park duck pond, we’re bound to find something interesting, don’t you think?”

Crowley stared at him with a look that was mostly unreadable, except for a hint of amusement glimmering in the tiny quirk of a grin.

The more time he spent with Aziraphale (and let’s be real, _most_ of his time was spent with Aziraphale nowadays), the more the angel surprised him. Aziraphale could be completely reclusive for days, pouring himself into reading whichever of his dusty books he decided it was time to read again, and then suddenly he wanted to go out on all manner of silly adventures. The principality seemed neither a homebody nor an outdoorsman. In fact, he usually looked immensely out of place in settings like this, wearing his typical, horrendously out of date clothing and sitting at a dirty, wooden picnic table at a muggy park. Still, it was clear that Aziraphale was enjoying himself here. He took great pleasure and interest from wildlife, and would talk himself in circles about all sorts of different creatures. He was particularly fond of ants.

“The Almighty created one of the most powerful and complex creatures in such a tiny body. It really is beautiful, don’t you agree, dear? They live in large colonies, all female except during breeding times, and they care for one or more queens who will keep the colony going for years by producing more offspring, while most of the workers have rather short life spans. They can lift things far larger and heavier than themselves in proportion to their own bodies, and they care for one another in such a tedious, well-organized manner. God has done _some_ good, I reckon, with Their creations, at least. Oh! How blasphemous for me to say such a thing! You won’t tell anyone, will you? I really didn’t mean to phrase it like that.”

Crowley had just laughed, much to the angel’s chagrin, though that had quickly melted into giggles as well.

Yes, Aziraphale was all over the place at times, it was almost hard to keep up with him (and he’d once claimed that Crowley was the one to go too fast). Crowley thoroughly loved the challenge though, probably because he loved the angel‒and yes, though it had taken him awhile to admit it, he’d decided that a demon could love things too (namely, another celestial being).

Aziraphale miracled away the picnic basket and whatever food they hadn’t consumed. They got up and started across the park, which was much larger than Crowley had first thought. Though they were still holding hands, Aziraphale was walking a half a pace in front of the demon, somewhat pulling on his arm to get him to walk faster. It seemed the angel had now forgotten that he was wearing clothing not really suited for the outdoors because he strutted through the patchy grass without a care. Once they’d reached the riverside, he went so far as to walk down the muddy shore until he was standing right at the edge of the water. His polished, brown Balmoral boots collected little dollops of wet sand and leaf litter, and he didn’t even notice. Crowley wasn’t about to point it out either, if only to be an irreverent shit.

The river was truly beautiful though. A canopy of trees formed a verdant archway over the well-worn path that led to the shore. Grass gave way to a mixture of soggy, gritty clay; the soils were plainly rich with nutrients given the amount of plant-life scaling the gently sloping hill.[6] Here the river was not set deeply in its banks, and Crowley wondered if it was in flooding or if it was merely just an incredibly young waterway. The undergrowth was so lush and thick that one could not see much farther neither up nor down the length of the river, but the water was relatively clear, littered only with other natural debris like fallen branches and blooming duck-weed. Rivulets of crisp, clean water toppled endlessly over one another so smoothly it was borderline Heavenly. Every once in a while, there would be a little break in the sleek lines of liquid, which Crowley appreciated because he couldn’t stand anything being too perfect.[7] That said, the scenery was one the demon greatly admired‒just another reason he was glad the other-wordly forces hadn’t gone through with their Armageddon. He really had never appreciated Aziraphale saying the word “ineffable” (was quite sick of hearing it for 6,000 years to be honest) until it was their, dare-he-say genius, scapegoat for delaying the end of the world.

The Earth was exquisite in all its forms and functions. Its flaws were meaningful; its wonders were jaw-dropping. So much work had gone into building it, and whether or not it was the human beings that ultimately destroyed the place, it seemed highly inappropriate for the Almighty to beat them to it. That would be like spending millennia crafting and looking after a beloved piece of art, adored by billions upon billions of creatures, only to set the thing aflame in front of their eyes because you got a little bored.[8]

Crowley was very much consumed with just staring admiringly at the river that he wasn’t really paying attention to Aziraphale until he heard his angel exclaim, “Oh, Crowley, look! A little frog!”

Somehow Aziraphale had meandered around back behind him and was pointing excitedly at something under a bush a little ways back up the shore.

It took a little bit of searching amongst all the brown and green, but finally Crowley spotted the tiny dappled frog seated wide-eyed and anxiously still beneath a fern. Aziraphale wanted to catch it, hold it excitedly in his hands and observe the curious creature. Crowley wanted to explode it because it reminded him far too much of Hastur. Fighting off that rather dark urge, the demon settled for watching his silly angel squatting down and trying to capture the small, nimble amphibian with his hands to no luck. He could have just magicked the frog into his clutches or frozen it in place, but where would be the fun in that? After a few minutes of chasing the evasive creature around through the sodden grass and mud, Aziraphale finally gave up on his quarry. Despite now being out of breath, it had been quite good fun. He glanced back at Crowley who was trying incredibly hard to suppress a chuckle.

“You could have helped,” Aziraphale whined.

Crowley shrugged at him, “Seemed you had everythin’ under control. What’d you want a frog for anyways?”

“I’ve seen humans catching them before,” Aziraphale explained, “I mean, in some places they eat them, tried ‘em myself a few times, not completely repulsive if you know who’s reputable for cooking frog. But mostly I’ve seen children catching frogs for sport, and, well, it’s just something I’ve sort of wanted to try, seeing as the world’s not going to end any time soon. Oh, good Heavens, I’ve completely spoiled my shoes!”

That familiar pouting look of despair was on Aziraphale’s face as he made the realization.

While Crowley was normally inclined to make him work for it a bit more, Aziraphale _had_ been very thoughtful about their little date today, and the demon was genuinely having a wonderful time with him. A fraction of a second passed and the shoes were clean. The angel looked like he was about to come and hug Crowley, but he was stopped by something before he could close the distance between them.

“Oh my! I think I’ve just felt a raindrop!”

“Best be heading back then,” Crowley said, hiding the shudder that ran down his spine. He really hated being rained on, especially after their little stint in avoiding punishment from Heaven and Hell, and he made an effort to magically keep himself dry whenever it was raining outside. Even with his supernaturally generated umbrella of sorts, he still despised precipitation. Not giving the angel any time to respond to what he had said, he started walking back towards the gazebo.

And sure enough, by the time they’d just ducked back under the shelter of the gazebo’s roof, the clouds unleashed a whole torrent of water upon the park. Aziraphale plopped onto the bench of the picnic table looking unhurried, which was somewhat worrying to Crowley. After a few minutes had elapsed the demon finally snapped.

“Well? Are we just going to stay here like a couple of sitting ducks while God floods us out?”

“God put out that rainbow however many thousands of years ago as a promise not to do that again Crowley. I thought I’d explained that to you at one point. Besides, there’s no real rush, is there dear?”

The demon let out a hiss of exasperation, “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not be caught out in the middle of nowhere, twiddling my thumbs while it’s pissing absolute buckets.”

Aziraphale looked at him just then, and caught sight of his partner’s agitation. It made him somewhat anxious because he’d really wanted to spend today having a fun time with Crowley, and it really wasn’t fun at all if said demon wasn’t also having a good time. An idea popped into his head. He stood up, still facing Crowley as he backed slowly away until the lip of the gazebo’s roof was no longer protecting him from the downpour.

His titanium hair was drenched through almost immediately, as well as the shoulders and collar of his jacket. Unlike the demon, Aziraphale rather loved rain, though he preferred the rain that came without the storm bit, because the flashes of light and loud noises were disconcerting at best. Whenever the storms were particularly violent he would curl up in his bed, miracling himself such comforts as heavy blankets, sound-proof ear muffs, a mug of hot cocoa, and of course, plenty of reading material. But if it was just the rain, he didn’t mind it in the slightest. It was really rather fun and refreshing, not a bad invention by any means. He held out his arms and beckoned for Crowley to come and join him under the meteorological showerhead.

“Absssolutely not!” Crowley shouted over the noise of the rain.

Aziraphale couldn’t stop the look of utter disappointment from crossing his face. Not that he normally tried to hide it in front of Crowley anyway, but this time he felt particularly bad about letting it slide for some reason. This time, there was something in the demon’s body language that suggested there was a deeper meaning to his refusal. Instead of pushing his luck, Aziraphale just bowed his head and walked back over to the picnic table, hair and clothes now dripping.

“Alright,” he said, “We can go whenever you’d like. I, uh, have a place picked out for us to stay the night… if you’d be up for that.”

Crowley didn’t move though, and instead mimicked Aziraphale’s sudden sullen demeanor. He nodded silently and stared down at his hands, not making any motion to leave.

“Um, would you like to leave the park now, dear?” Aziraphale asked tentatively, unsure.

“I’m afraid of the rain,” Crowley responded softly.

“What?”

“I said ‘_I’m afraid of the rain_’.”

“No, I heard that, you just caught me off guard, dear. What ever about the rain scares you?”

The demon sighed with what seemed his entire body, “It’s stupid.”

Aziraphale reached over the table and squeezed his hands, “Don’t you go saying such things now. Best to just let it out. Go on, there’s no judgment here, love, that’s the Almighty’s job.”

“Well,” Crowley started hesitantly, “‘s’jus’at maybe God, or some other of your lot, happens to be looking down at Earth and decides to bless the rain or something and then… _poof_.”

Had Aziraphale not seen what happened to demons exposed to Holy Water, he might have burst into laughter. The sincerity in Crowley’s voice and the horrors he’d personally witnessed during their body-swap-to-escape-extinction made the angel’s heart swell with empathy. He let go of Crowley’s hands to reach up and cup the demon’s face instead, tilting his chin up so they made eye contact.

“Look, dear, if the Almighty was really intent on destroying either of us, we’d be long gone by now. You know _They_ know abso-bloody-lutely everything. They undoubtedly knew about our stint in evading destruction after the failed attempt at the Apocalypse, and while God is known to be petty at times… well, I rather think we’d both have been smited already.”

Crowley looked somewhat convinced, but not entirely.

“The only time I’ve ever heard anything about rains being blessed was, I do believe, in a song, much more recently too, and it was supposedly only happening in Africa... ” Aziraphale continued, his face screwing up in distaste as he recalled what was considered popular music these days, “My dear boy, even if the rain _was _miraculously turned into Holy Water, you know I would always protect you.”

Something seemed to click, and, gazing up at his angel with a familiar look of lovestruck awe, the demon croaked out, “Really?”

And Aziraphale smiled back, a smile that was so full of love and caring that Crowley could not disbelieve him when he said, “I promise.”

The angel rose from the picnic table once more, taking the comfort of his hands away from Crowley’s face, instead holding them out invitingly. When Crowley stood as well, it seemed to Aziraphale that the demon had almost shrunken.[9] When one pictures a demon rising from its seat, the mental image is usually not one of a lean, fire-haired, man-shaped being getting to his feet with hesitation, nerves apparent even behind the sunglasses. I think people are more likely to imagine a larger-than-life beast, complete with horns and scaly, crimson skin, intent on destroying everything in its wake (there might even be some hypothetical wicked laughter thrown in for good measure).

Crowley stood, crooked in all his features, bones an elegant humanoid chandelier caging a heart that Aziraphale knew wasn’t nearly as full of immorality as any of the Higher Authorities wished to believe it was. Crowley was beautiful; the fact never escaped Aziraphale. And Aziraphale thought that, much like the Earth, something so beautiful should never have to live in fear of being ruthlessly struck down by an unpredictable Providence. _There’s nothing more I want than to spend the rest of my time being unafraid of God with you. _Considering their past, it would take some effort and mutual comforting for the both of them to achieve that.

As Crowley tentatively approached, his angel took one step back for each step he took forward towards the sheeting rain. The demon’s instincts screamed for him to put up a bodily shield for his corporeal form so the rains could not harm him, but by now heavy droplets were splashing up around his boots and the legs of his trousers. There was no foreboding hiss or sharp sting of Divine waters coming into contact with demonic flesh as the soggy fabric began to cling to Crowley’s legs, and there was no aura of Celestial Holiness emanating from the skies. It really was just rain, somewhat acidic, but otherwise mundane and unblessed.

Aziraphale’s arm was still outstretched towards the demon, all of his nice, old clothing already mostly soaked through by now. The downpour was so intense that the fields of the park _were_ actually beginning to flood a bit. Water collected in little pools around the angel’s boots.

Crowley shakily raised a hand, reaching out slowly. The first splashes of water against his fingers made him jump, quickly yanking his arm back in close to his body. He examined his hand, a few droplets of water trailing down his skin harmlessly.

“It’s just rain,” he whispered to himself, not caring whether Aziraphale heard it or not.

Before him the angel stood patiently cloaked in the chilly rainfall, his cerulean eyes were puddles of compassionate fire. Crowley could see how much this meant to him‒ the ability to experience everything the Earth had to offer them, even the most common of storms, freely, unafraid. And Crowley could also feel that, even though Aziraphale was painfully sensitive to rejection, the angel was willing to work with him here. If this was too much, too soon, it would all be okay. They had time.

But Crowley wasn’t usually the type to back down from a challenge.[10]

Almost as if he were in his serpent form, Crowley lunged his hand out into the deluge of rain towards Aziraphale’s, and within a heartbeat he was no longer beneath the shelter of the gazebo, completely at the mercy of the Heavens (literally and metaphorically), and holding his angel’s hand as if it were the last bastion of freedom in existence.

On most occasions, it was somewhat prerogative for Aziraphale to behave like a bastard, especially if, on those occasions, he was correct about something or other. After knowing him for some time, it became apparent that this bastardliness was mostly for show: an attempt to replicate the rest of the Heavenly Host really. Sometimes it snuck through if the angel was feeling particularly hedonistic at the time, but now that Heaven and Hell had both mostly given up being a pain in the arse to the both of them, Aziraphale was less inclined to put on his Angelic front, especially with Crowley. So instead of saying something like “I _told_ you it was _just rain_”, Aziraphale simply pulled the demon closer to him.

It was the first time Crowley had really felt raindrops against his material form in decades, maybe even centuries, he couldn’t quite remember. The water quickly dampened his clothes all the way through, cool and sticky. The sensation was a bit like Heaven and Hell mixed together; the coldness was somewhat biting, icy as he had remembered Heaven being, but the clinging of cloth to his skin reminded him of the roiling humidity in Hell. Strangely enough, the two feelings together were not wholly unpleasant.

Better yet was Aziraphale’s smile. The angel was beaming at him lovingly while their hands were folded into one another’s as if they were always meant to be that way, their bodies only a few centimeters apart. Then Aziraphale was hugging Crowley once more, his warm arms sheltering the demon’s bony shoulders, head leaning in close to Crowley’s ear to talk softly to him.

“Over 6,000 years ago I sheltered you from the first ever rain when we stood on the wall of Eden,” Aziraphale murmured, their bodies both starting to sway gently beneath the pouring of the skies, “After everything we’ve been through, all the meetings, the Arrangement, seeing the Apocalypse come and go… I… I wasn’t always there for you when I should have been. I know it was casual then, and we had to listen to our Head Offices, and we had to be _careful_, but you were always the one saving me. _You_ were always the one sticking your neck out for _me_. And I want you to know that I’m here now, and I’m sorry. I’m an angel for Go‒Someone’s sake, I’m _meant_ to be there. I‒ even demons deserve to feel the love of… well, Someone, whomever that should happen to be.

“We try to tell the humans that God loves the universe and everything that is a part of it, and it’s a lie, isn’t it…? Many of them know it’s a lie… they use God as a figurehead under which to commit horrible deeds to each other and to the environment. After everything we’ve been through together, I’ve seen that so many of them act more like God than they could possibly know, and not in the loving or forgiving or respecting sort of way. Of course, humans are wild creatures, and they have the capability for all sorts of evil and all sorts of good, which makes them… oh, dear, I’m babbling now, aren’t I?

“What I’m trying to get to is that I’m here now, dear, and I’m going to be here, on our side, for, well, for forever really. When the _Really_ Big One comes, I’m still going to be here… with you. And I’m going to keep you safe, because Crowley, dear, you are so very, _very_ loved.”

Crowley couldn’t tell if it was still just the rain trickling down his cheeks, but his eyes burned and he’d stopped breathing a while ago as Aziraphale spoke to him. He gently unwound himself from the angel’s embrace, going so far as to slide his sunglasses down off his nose and hang them over the low-cut collar of his shirt. He met Aziraphale’s gaze unflinchingly.

“I forgive you.”

* * *

[1]. [Not that Crowley hadn’t already been to loads of places both Earthly and otherwise. It would, in fact, be difficult to find a place that Crowley _hadn’t_ yet visited.]↩

[2]. [Which he had, indeed, _not_ driven per their previous argument. Instead, Aziraphale had miracled the car to take them to the desired location without telling Crowley just where exactly he was taking him to.]↩

[3]. [While Crowley had indeed made them both invisible, he hadn’t bothered magicking anything that they might interact with. Therefore, should any “blasted human” walk by, they would have seen children’s playground equipment moving of its own accord, and sandwiches and bottles of wine being lifted and consumed by nothing whatsoever, as if the park were a scene from a cheesily-executed horror film.]↩

[4]. [Except, in his case, he was really just a demon out of Hell, not a bat in any regard, so please don’t get the wrong idea here.]↩

[5]. [Crowley commonly keeps his sunglasses on for his bouts of visual pining, but he makes up for it by blatantly fawning over Aziraphale with his entire body.]↩

[6]. [Crowley was even the slightest bit impressed with how nice the surrounding foliage looked.]↩

[7]. [There are actually a few exceptions to this because Crowley knew there to be at least three perfect things on this planet that he _could_ stand (some might even argue that he cherished them), those three things being: his Bentley, his house plants, and Aziraphale.]↩

[8]. [Only difference is that, for the billions upon billions of Earth’s greatest fans, disappointment over its destruction would be significantly more fatal.]↩

[9]. [Demons and angels alike _are_ capable of modifying their appearances by means of supernatural ability, but that wasn’t what was happening in this moment.]↩

[10]. [Well, he liked to think he wasn’t, but there is plenty of evidence otherwise. Consider him imploring Aziraphale to run away to the stars with him come Armageddon-time, or even the very nature of their 6,000 year long arrangement which was really just the means for neither of them to do what they’d been told.]↩


End file.
